


Codetta

by LocallyGrownAvocado



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: ALL THE FLUFF, Alternate Universe - Music, Alternate Universe - Music Store, And Victor is a famous viola player, And all the obscure musical references, And by light I mean very light, Cosplay collaboration, Fluff, Guess who makes violas cough cough it's Yuuri, Light Angst, M/M, Yuuri owns a music store
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-18
Updated: 2019-03-27
Packaged: 2019-11-23 10:45:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,061
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18150842
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LocallyGrownAvocado/pseuds/LocallyGrownAvocado
Summary: Yuuri Katsuki had a fairly normal life running a fairly normal music shop in his fairly normal city. As far as he was concerned, his talents included replacing clarinet pads, re-shaping trumpets, and occasionally accompanying a solo or two. And though he made the occasional violin, he was by no means a remarkable luthier.However, when a world-famous musician shows up at his shop asking for a custom instrument, Yuuri can't help but agree. It's far from an easy process. But in the end, a viola is made, a career is saved, and love might just be found along the way.





	1. Theme in F

Kenjirou Minami was a good employee, he really was. Sure, he might have dropped that case of valve oil when he first started. Maybe some of the bottles burst open. He might’ve tripped over a wire stand once or twice or maybe thirty times. And he may or may not have accidentally spilled coffee on a stack of sheet music last week.

But he definitely _wasn’t_ trying to set his boss up with a cute single dad with a daughter in Leo de la Iglesia’s eighth-grade band.

He definitely hadn’t gotten Leo in on it too.

No, that would be ridiculous.

After all, Brad Thornton wasn't even that good looking. His biceps were just… a little better than average. As was his hair, his sense of humor, and his fashion sense. And his daughter was adorable, not to mention a much better than average clarinet player. And his son was in fifth grade, meaning a certain Mr. Thornton would be coming to the store in just a few weeks for fifth grade recruitment night.

And Kenji would not let a certain Mr. Thornton leave fifth grade recruitment night without Yuuri’s number in hand.

After all, he was a good employee. He was a good employee with a good plan and a wonderful boss who deserved all the love and attention Mr. Brad Thornton could offer. All he had to do was steer Mr. Thornton’s son towards the string instruments on recruitment night, where Yuuri and probably Chris would be waiting. It would be easy enough.

Hopefully, Mr. Thornton would do the rest.

And if he didn't, Chris could be counted on to fill in the gaps.

The phone rang aggressively, sending Kenji sprinting back toward the front desk.

“Katsuki’s Music Supply,” he said cheerily as he picked up. “This is Kenji speaking, how can I help you?”

 

* * *

 

When Yuuri walked into the store that morning, Kenji was on the phone talking animatedly about drumsticks.

“Trust me,” he was saying. “You want the Vic Firths. American Classic, 5A. Don’t get the nylon tips. Mr. Chulanont definitely prefers the wood. We have some in stock if you swing by the store, otherwise, they’re easy enough to order online.”

Yuuri waved as he walked back into the workroom, letting the door block out the rest of Kenji’s explanation.

His workroom was at least slightly organized. The walls were lined with shelves and tool racks, instrument cases along the edges of the room. There was a huge calendar on the back wall, most of the dates filled with red writing and highlighter streaks.

And then, of course, there was the back table. Though it was usually a chaotic mess, today it was practically empty with the exception of a few hot plates and his bending iron. He’d finished his last custom order a week ago, and thus the back table was deserted.

Yuuri sighed and checked the calendar. It wouldn’t be too heavy of a repair day- he really just had a couple trumpets to straighten out and a saxophone to look over. If he worked quickly, he could have the trumpets done by lunch and have most of the afternoon to do inventory.

Yuuri grabbed the first trumpet- a Jupiter that looked like it had been dropped down a small flight of stairs. He went to grab a blowtorch but was cut off by the abrasive sound of his cell phone vibrating on the table.

Yuuri quickly read the name on the screen- Phichit’s, of course- and picked up.

“Hey,” he said, returning to the blowtorch search. “Aren’t you supposed to be in class?”

“I had a few minutes between periods,” Phichit responded. “How are you holding up?”

“Fine?” Yuuri replied. “You don’t remember where I put my blowtorch, do you?”

The noise that came out of Phichit’s mouth didn’t sound human. “Look, Yuuri, technically I trust you but whatever you want to do with a blowtorch probably isn’t a great idea, don’t you think you should wait?”

Yuuri froze. “I was going to fix a trumpet for Leo,” he said slowly. “But you sound way too concerned. What’s going on?”

For a minute, there was silence on the line.

“You don’t know,” Phichit eventually said. “Oh my God, you honestly don’t know.”

“Don’t know?”

Phichit sighed. “Look, it’s been all over the news,” he said. “Just… look. I’ll come over after school, Chris will probably come too, we’ll bring food. We’ll talk more then? The freshmen are coming in, I have to go. Please don’t light the store on fire.”

There was a small click as Phichit hung up, leaving Yuuri standing silently in the middle of the workroom.

And then he opened Twitter.

Phichit had been right.

It hadn’t been hard to find at all, the headlines were everywhere.

**_World-Famous Violist Victor Nikiforov Hospitalized After Car Accident._ **

**_Nikiforov Injured in Crash, Condition Unknown._ **

**_Victor Nikiforov Rushed to Hospital- is This the End of the Feltsman Empire?_ **

Yuuri set his phone back down on the table, pressed his face into his hands, and took a long shaky breath. He reached for his phone again, but couldn’t quite bring himself to pick it up. He had at least three hundred questions, but in the end, he wasn’t sure he wanted to know.

He didn’t want to know what caused the accident. He didn’t want to know what happened to the other driver. He didn’t want to know what hospital they took him to, how long ago he got there, how much longer he’d have to stay. He didn’t want to know what happened and he certainly didn’t want to see whatever pictures they’d manage to snag.

If he didn’t read the articles, he could pretend it would all be alright. He could pretend it was a minor injury- a broken toe, a few scratches, a bruise or two. He could pretend that his viola wasn’t in the car, that it hadn’t been destroyed, that it was still perfect and shiny and resonant as ever.

If he didn’t read the articles, he could pretend it wasn’t over.

It couldn't be over.

“Yuuri,” Kenji shouted from the front of the store. “You finished that violin for the historical society, right?”

“Yeah,” Yuuri called back, trying to keep his voice even. “Why?”

“A guy just called asking about a custom instrument,” Kenji responded. “I told him to swing by the store and talk to you about it.”

“Thanks,” Yuuri replied. “What was the instrument?”

“Uhhhh… Violin, I think. Don’t quote me on that, though.”

Yuuri took another deep breath and turned his attention back to the dented trumpet on the table.

“Hey Kenji,” he shouted. “Have you seen my blowtorch?”

 

* * *

 

By the time lunch rolled around, Yuuri had finished the saxophone. He’d started inventory with the hope that one of his blowtorches would turn up, but he had no such luck. So instead of fixing beat-up trumpets, Yuuri had spent most of his morning counting.

He hated inventory.

Thankfully, Phichit had shown up when he was about halfway through, along with a huge box of tacos and most of the school district’s musical staff. Chris had brought coffee, Guang had brought some cookies. Leo had brought some chips and an oboe that looked like it had bathed in kool-aid, but Yuuri had definitely seen worse.

They’d sat in the store for a few hours eating Mexican and gossipping about how the high school choir directors were finally dating. Kenji had made a few not-so-subtle comments about recruitment night and Brad Thornton. Chris went on a twenty-minute rant on Bernstein and how doing West Side Story as the school musical had been a mistake.

Yuuri had almost forgotten about the headlines.

He’d still checked Victor’s Instagram on his way out of the store that night.

He’d checked it the next morning, too.

He’d checked Victor’s, the Feltsman Symphony’s, he’d even checked Yuri Plisetsky’s.

The last picture on Victor’s profile was always the same. He was always standing there, in front of the same brick pillar, same serene look on his face, viola held gracefully beneath his jaw.

It was a beautiful picture.

But after a week of seeing it, Yuuri let himself stop checking.

 

* * *

 

 

* * *

 

Kenji had been working at the music shop for three years. He’d seen his fair share of things. He’d dealt with demolished instruments, hysteric performers, and Phichit Chulanont the night before Christmas concerts.

Kenji had seen _everything_.

Or so he’d thought.

“Hi there,” the beautiful and incredibly recognizable man at the front counter said. “I’m here for Yuuri about an instrument, I called about a week ago?”

Kenji could only nod silently and sprint back into the workroom.

“Yuuri,” he said as he burst through the door. “Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God.”

Yuuri almost dropped Leo’s oboe.

“Deep breaths, Kenji, what happened?”

Kenji took a deep breath.

Actually, he took about five deep breaths.

“Alright,” he said. “So there’s a man outside who wants to see you about an instrument and, um, he looks a _lot_ like Victor Nikiforov.”

Yuuri gave him a skeptical glare. “If it’s Chris in a wig again, I swear to God there will be blood.”

Kenji shook his head.

Yuuri raised his eyebrows.

Kenji pointed at the door.

 

* * *

 

The minute Yuuri walked out of the workroom, he regretted it. The man in the front of the store was definitely not Chris in a wig. No. He was shorter and his hair was much prettier than the trashy wig Chris had bought off Amazon.

“Hi,” Yuuri said nervously as he approached. “What can I do for you.”

The other man’s face lit up. “You’re Yuuri Katsuki, right? I mean, Lilia gave me your card and I googled you, but couldn’t exactly find much… I’m Victor Nikiforov.”

He held out his hand, and Yuuri hesitantly shook it.

“I… I know,” he said.

Victor smiled at him again, and Yuuri could swear his heart skipped at least three beats.

“Anyways,” he said. “I was wondering if you’d be willing to make me a custom viola.”

“A _what?_ ”

Victor looked confused. “I need a custom viola,” he repeated. “Will you do it?”

For a second, Yuuri just stared.

“You want me to make a custom viola,” he said.

Victor nodded.

“For you.”

Victor nodded once again.

“I think there’s been a mistake,” Yuuri said. “I’m not… You’re… You’re _Victor Nikiforov._ You could get a Stradivarius if you wanted one.”

“Stradivari is dead, Yuuri,” Victor said bluntly.

Yuuri shook his head. “That’s not the point,” he said. “I’m nowhere near qualified.”

The smile dropped off Victor’s face.

“Yuuri,” he said seriously. “The Feltsman Symphony starts its concert season in three months. The opening show sold out ages ago, with my name attached to it. I _will_ play that show. I have to.”

“Of course you will,” Yuuri replied. “You’re… you.”

“Three months, Yuuri,” Victor insisted. “I have three months to get an instrument built, learn how to play it, adapt to the mirroring, and relearn all the music. It’s insanity. Yakov told me it couldn’t be done. But Lilia gave me a card with your name on it and said you’d be crazy enough to try, and right now that’s all I have.”

Yuuri just stared, trying to make sense of the look on Victor’s face.

He’d never seen that look on Victor, and he’d watched every interview at least three times.

This expression was new, he was sure of it. It was new, raw, and hurt, and Yuuri knew for certain that he never wanted to see it again.

Victor sighed and pulled his left hand from his pocket.

“Look at it,” he commanded.

Despite the pit in his stomach, Yuuri looked.

Victor’s left hand was riddled with scars, his wrist still slightly bruised. His index finger was crooked, his middle finger missing the top joint. His fourth finger was practically gone, the pinkie not faring much better

“Look at it,” Victor whispered. “I… I could bow with it if I tried hard enough, I’m sure. I just… I need the instrument.”

“Oh my God,” Yuuri said softly. “I’m so sorry.”

“Please,” Victor replied. “I’m not ready to give myself up yet. Not like this. I… I don’t have anything else.”

“Of course you do,” Yuuri protested. “You’re _Victor Nikiforov._ ”

“And what is Victor Nikiforov without a viola, Yuuri?” Victor said numbly. “What am I without this instrument?”

Somehow, Yuuri had no answer.

He’d seen the interviews, watched the concert live streams, bought every album.

But he had no answer.

“I’ll do it,” he said softly. “I’ll make you a viola.”

Victor’s eyes lit up, relief flooding his features. “Thank you,” he breathed. “I’ll make it up to you, I’ll pay you, I’ll wash your windows, I’ll-”

“You’ll take a deep breath,” Yuuri interjected. “You’ll go get some sleep, relax, and you’ll be okay.”

“And after that, I’ll make you do the windows!” Kenji’s voice shouted from the other side of the workroom door.

Yuuri shook his head, though he knew Kenji couldn’t see him.

Victor just laughed. “I’m sure that can be arranged.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi all and welcome to my fluff bang project! It's been a bit of a wild ride, but we made it! Thanks so much for reading! The next chapter should be up on Wednesday night. :)
> 
> You can find me on Tumblr [here](https://locallygrownavocado.tumblr.com/).  
> Angie, who organized the cosplay and will later be popping up as Yuuri, can be found on Tumblr [here](https://lunchtops.tumblr.com/).  
> Our wonderful Victor is on Instagram [here](https://www.instagram.com/carniv.ares/).  
> And the photographer is on Instagram [here](https://www.instagram.com/albuscornix/).


	2. Transition

When Kenji got to the store that morning, the doors were already unlocked. Yuuri’s car was in its usual spot, the store lights were on, and soft viola music was playing from the workroom.

He figured Yuuri had gotten in early.

Kenji sighed, set his bag behind the counter, and made his way back towards the workroom to say hello.

It didn’t take very long to establish that Yuuri had not, in fact, gotten in early.

Yuuri had never left, and now was asleep curled over the bench. Sketches were spread out around him, wood scraps arranged in methodical lines. His phone was plugged into the wall, at least, one of Victor’s albums playing from the speakers.

Kenji shook his head, shut the workroom lights off, and went back to open the store. Technically, he could have woken Yuuri up. But Kenji was a good employee, he really was, and good employees didn’t wake their bosses up before nine.

The first customer of the day was a high schooler picking up his trumpet. The second was a mom looking for piano books. The third was technically not a customer, she was a community theater member who wanted to hang a poster on the store’s bulletin board. And then there was the fourth customer, who was none other than the legendary viola master himself.

“Good morning,” he said cheerily. “I’ve come to wash the windows.”

Kenji laughed.

He laughed for at least three minutes straight.

But after he was done laughing, Kenji had what was probably the most brilliant idea of his entire life.

“Oh of course,” he said cheerily. “Thanks so much. Can I get you to run me a quick errand first though? There’s a coffee shop down the street, I need the biggest double mocha they have, with almond milk. Probably extra espresso.”

Victor pulled his phone out and made a quick note. “Almond milk?”

“Yep,” Kenji confirmed with a smile. “Bonus points if you pick me up one of their glazed donuts, too. Those are the best.”

Victor nodded and slid his phone into his back pocket. “Got it,” he said with a smile. “I’ll be back.”

Kenji chuckled to himself, snapping a quick picture as Victor walked out of the store. His face wasn’t quite visible, he was halfway out the door by the time Kenji had pulled his phone out. But his distinctive hair was remarkably shiny and recognizable.

Kenji clicked the group message button.

 **_To:_ ** _Phichit Chulanont (LHS Band), Chris Giacometti (LHS Orch), Leo de la Iglesia (HMS Band), Guang Hong Ji (HMS Orch)_

_Attachment: img_450683_

_So operation Brad Thornton is officially over. I’ve had a much better idea. ;)_

 

* * *

 

Victor’s coffee run had taken about twenty minutes, but only because the barista had used soy milk the first time around. Technically, it would probably be fine. But for all he knew, Kenji could be allergic to lactose _and_ soybeans.

Yuuri probably wouldn’t build a viola if Victor sent Kenji into anaphylactic shock.

And so with that logic, Victor had waited five extra minutes for the barista to find the almond milk in the back cooler, make another mocha, and write Kenji’s name on the side of the new cup.

“I have your caffeine!” Victor said as he walked back into the store. “And a donut, of course, what’s coffee without a donut?”

Kenji just shook his head.

“Oh no,” he said. “That’s not for me. The donut is, of course. I love donuts. But the coffee’s for Yuuri.”

“Yuuri’s here?”

Kenji let out an exasperated sigh. “He’s not supposed to be, trust me. He’s crashed in the workroom, and your first task as my honorable employee is to go wake him up so I don’t have to.”

“Shouldn’t we just… let him sleep?”

“Hypothetically, yes,” Kenji said. “But if he sleeps until noon, he’ll stay at the shop until three in the morning to make up for it. The sooner he wakes up, the sooner he gets tired tonight and actually goes home.”

“I feel like I’m not the right person for this,” Victor said hesitantly. “He doesn't know me.”

Kenji just laughed. “Yeah? Well you’re pretty and famous and important. He can’t get away with strangling you. Me, on the other hand…”

“If he strangles me, he doesn’t have to make a viola,” Victor replied as he walked into the workroom.

It was dim- the lights were off and the lone window didn’t help much. Yuuri was asleep at his bench, glasses pushed awkwardly against his face. He was surrounded by blueprints and open books, wood pieces arranged in some order that Victor couldn’t pretend to understand.

He sighed as he set the coffee on the table, found a stray barstool, and took a seat.

“Yuuri,” he whispered.

Nothing.

“Yuuuuuuri.”

Nothing.

Victor gently tapped his nose.

He knocked on the table.

He shuffled some of Yuuri’s papers.

And still, nothing.

Victor thought for a moment, letting the familiar sound of Berlioz wash over him. Despite the years, he still remembered performing Harold en Italie for the first time in Moscow. It had been November- it was snowing on the way to the concert hall. He remembered the exact look of concern on Yakov’s face as he introduced Victor as a featured soloist for the very first time, along with the applause that followed as he walked out onto the stage.

But most of all, he remembered the pride painted across his conductor’s face when they finished the fourth movement.

It had been one of the best moments of his life.

After basking in the memory for a few long minutes, Victor let himself open his eyes. Yuuri was still asleep, of course, but his eyes caught on a familiar shape on one of the shelves. He might not be able to play Berlioz with half a hand, but he could probably work through something if it were slow and simple enough.

Victor grabbed the viola.

He quietly plucked the strings for pitch, taking a minute to get used to the weight of an unfamiliar bow in his hand. When he was ready, he reached across the table and paused Yuuri’s music.

He took a moment to feel the newfound silence and began to play.

The melody came to him fairly easily- he’d started writing it on his flight. It was far from perfect, but it was slow, gentle, and it felt at least a little familiar. He moved through the notes slowly and carefully, watching his battered fingers as they stumbled over the neck.

As he relaxed, he could feel himself giving in to the melody. The notes began to swell beneath his fingers, the lines taking on a life of their own. He started to work in the ornamentations, refine the vibrato. The music wasn’t anywhere near what it could be. But as Victor worked through the closing chords, he could admit it wasn’t terrible.

When he finally looked back down at the workbench, he noticed Yuuri staring at him.

“I… I brought you coffee?” he offered, gesturing to the mug.

“Thanks,” Yuuri said softly. “You shouldn’t have.”

Victor raised his eyebrows. “You were here all night. And judging by the state of your workbench, I’m guessing it was my fault.”

“It wasn’t your fault,” Yuuri countered. “And I’ve done worse, I’ll live.”

“That’s not a compelling argument.”

Yuuri’s ringtone cut him off before he got the chance to reply.

It was Tchaikovsky.

Yuuri’s ringtone was _Tchaikovsky_.

Yuuri rolled his eyes as he picked up the phone.

“You only have three minutes between periods, if you’re going to yell at me make it fast.”

Victor could hear the faint sound of an angry voice on the other side of the line, but couldn't make out any of the words. Yuuri just looked exhausted and impatient.

“I know,” he eventually said. “I’m the worst, I’ll re-pad your clarinet to make up for it.”

There was a pause as the voice on the other side replied.

“No, I won’t promise to keep Kenji on staff, for multiple reasons.”

Another pause. The irritation on Yuuri’s face slowly morphed into a smirk.

“You’ll hire him to what? Teach voice to your string players? That’s an empty threat.”

Yuuri sighed.

“Sure. I’ll wait to fire him until after recruitment night. Now isn’t your rehearsal starting? The district is going to fire _you_.”

Yuuri chuckled a little.

“Yeah, I’m sure.”

He shook his head as he hung up, tucking his phone into his back pocket.

“That was Phichit,” he explained. “He’s a friend of mine, teaches band at the high school. He’s just irritated. He’ll get over it.”

“Oh,” Victor said, watching as Yuuri started to sort through his sketches.

Though a few of them got sorted into neat piles, most of them were crumpled up and thrown haphazardly in the direction of the trash can.

“Yuuri,” Victor said hesitantly. “I meant what I said earlier, you can’t hole up here, it isn’t healthy. You need the sleep, the fresh air, have you eaten?”

Yuuri just shrugged. “I’ll crack the window.”

Victor shook his head. “That’s not what I meant. Let me take you out to dinner or something, get you out of the shop tonight. It’s the least I can do.”

Yuuri sighed. “That’s… super nice of you, really,” he said. “But I have a lot to do tonight and I really shouldn’t leave Kenji here alone.”

“It’s alright, I-”

Something crashed outside the workroom.

Yuuri jumped at least three feet and was out of the room before Victor really had the chance to process what had happened. After listening to the exasperated lecture for a minute or two, Victor figured he’d go save Kenji.

 

* * *

 

 

* * *

 

 

By the time Yuuri finished his repairs for the day, it was almost six. He set the last instrument onto its shelf and turned to the array of wood that was laid out on the back table. He’d have to at least start the cutting over the weekend, if he worked all day Sunday he could probably make a decent dent in it.

Of course, that required explaining to Kenji why he was wasting his morning off.

He had a feeling Kenji would be less than thrilled.

“Yuuri!” his co-worker yelled from the storefront. “Victor’s back!”

“Tell him he doesn’t have to wash the windows,” Yuuri shouted.

“Oh no I already had him do that,” Kenji replied. “They’re really shiny now. He even got the ones above the door.”

Yuuri sighed and made his way out of the workroom. “Well, in that case, I’ll have to hire him to do your job.”

“You’d never,” Kenji said with a smirk. “I have better hair.”

Victor scoffed dramatically. “You most certainly do not.”

“Not even close,” Yuuri confirmed. “And welcome back to the store, Victor, what can I do for you?”

“I brought food,” Victor said, holding up a bag.

For a second, Yuuri just stared. He knew he probably looked ridiculous, but Victor Nikiforov was in his store with a bag of takeout, and Yuuri could think of absolutely nothing to say.

“Food?” he eventually echoed.

“Well, I couldn’t convince you to get dinner, so I figured I’d bring it to you. We can have a picnic.”

“A picnic?”

Victor laughed. “You know, if you keep repeating everything I say, it’ll make for a very uninteresting dinnertime conversation.”

“Look, Victor, I’m sorry-”

“I spent two hours on Yelp looking for the best Chinese takeout in the area, Yuuri, you can’t say no.”

Kenji snorted behind the counter.

“Two _hours_?”

Victor just smiled. “Come on. It’s nice outside, we can eat on the lawn, get some much needed fresh air.”

“If you don’t do it, I’m calling Phichit,” Kenji added.

Yuuri sighed. “You’ll call Phichit no matter what. And you could’ve asked, by the way. Instead of spending too long on Yelp.”

“And risk you telling me not to? I might not be a genius, but I’m a little smarter than that.”

Victor shot Yuuri a knowing smile and walked out the door.

Yuuri took a deep breath and followed.

There was a thin strip of grass on the other side of the parking lot, and Victor quickly decided that it was the perfect picnic spot. It wasn’t exactly a lawn and it had its fair share of dandelions, but it would have to do. Victor pulled a few boxes out of his bag, handing Yuuri a set of chopsticks.

“So,” he said with a smile. “You own a music store, you must have a musical background. What did you play?”

“Piano,” Yuuri said. “I was going to major in it, actually. But my hands weren’t big enough and the recitals made me really anxious. So I switched my performance major to general music, and here we are.”

“Do you regret it?”

“Regret it?” Yuuri thought for a minute. “I don’t think so. Performance is pretty cutthroat, I probably wouldn’t have made it far anyway. And I really do love what I do.”

“Do you still play?” Victor asked.

“Not as much as I should. Life gets busy. I play when I can. Every so often Chris and Phichit will ask me to accompany solos or fill in on concerts, that’s always fun.”

“Phichit’s the band director?”

Yuuri nodded. “He does the band, Chris does the orchestra. You’ll probably meet them at some point, they’re definitely an interesting duo.”

Victor smiled. “I’ll look forward to it.”

There was quiet for a minute while Yuuri ate some fried rice.

“What about you?” he eventually asked. “Why viola?”

Victor just laughed. “Do you want the press answer or the real one?”

“Both.”

“Well,” Victor said with a smile. “Obviously I chose viola because it’s the superior string instrument and I always loved it as a child. I picked one up, lights flooded down from the heavens, and was instantly wonderful at it. Tears were shed.”

“Really?”

“No,” Victor said. “My cousin had a viola, and she was willing to give it to us for free. Violins were very _not_ free, so I played viola.”

Yuuri couldn’t help but smile. “Sounds like fate.”

Victor snorted. “Sounds like we were broke. But you can call it fate if you really want to.”

“Not a believer?”

Victor thought for a moment, staring at a piece of orange chicken as he contemplated.

“It’s so… ambiguous,” he eventually said. “You could interpret anything as fate. My viola, your performance major, the fact that Kenji dropped that cymbal earlier… I mean, Yuri Plisetsky probably thinks this whole car crash debacle is fate leading him to his destined role as principal viola, and in reality, it was just somebody’s shit driving decisions.”

“Isn’t Plisetsky like, twelve?”

“Fourteen,” Victor corrected with a smile. “But he probably has a bigger ego than I do, and I’ve been told I’m insufferable.”

“You’re not insufferable.”

Victor laughed. “You’ve known me for a day, you’re hardly an authority on the matter.”

Yuuri smiled. “Well, given the nature of our project, I’ll be working with you for at least a few more weeks. I’ll let you know if I change my mind.”

“Hopefully you don’t have to.”

They spent at least another half hour sitting on the grass. Yuuri talked about the shop, about Leo and Guang, and about Kenji’s April Fools Day antics. Victor talked about Russia and Yakov Feltsman, about Yuri Plisetsky, and about his dog of course.

Eventually, they went back inside- it was starting to get cold and dark after all. Victor left shortly after, claiming he didn’t want to be a bother while Kenji tried to close the store. And after a brief interrogation from his co-worker, Yuuri retreated back into the workroom.

He searched through his drawers until he found an old pad of paper and a ballpoint pen. He thought the words over in his head for a few minutes before finally deciding on his title. He wrote it in tall, neat letters across the top of the page, drew his first bullet point, and started his list.

 

* * *

 

Victor walked into the store the next morning to find that it wasn’t nearly as empty as usual. Kenji was at the counter, talking to two new customers. One was a tall, muscular blonde man in skinny jeans. The other was a shorter, possibly Asian man wearing what appeared to be a vintage Journey t-shirt.

“Speak of the devil,” Kenji said as Victor walked into the store. “I didn’t think you’d be in this early.”

The blonde man turned to face him, face lighting up as he did.

“Well look at _you_ ,” he said. “Aren’t you just gorgeous. Is that your natural hair color, love, or do you dye it?”

“Definitely natural,” Victor said as he shook the other man’s hand.

“It’s remarkable, really,” the man said. “I’m Chris Giacometti, by the way. LHS orchestra.”

“Victor Nikiforov,” Victor said. “Feltsman Symphony.”

“Oh I know who you are, love,” Chris said with a smirk. “Trust me, I’ve heard all about you.”

Victor chuckled nervously. “Should I be concerned?”

“No,” the shorter, definitely Asian, possibly Thai man said. “He’s mostly harmless.”

“Darling I’m insulted.”

The other man rolled his eyes and offered Victor his hand. “Phichit Chulanont,” he said. “LHS band and keeper of the Christophe.”

“Right,” Victor said as recognition dawned on him. “You're Yuuri's friend.”

Phichit laughed. “I mean, we're all Yuuri's friends. But I like to think I'm the favorite.”

“Sure you do,” Kenji said with a smile.

Chris cocked an eyebrow. “I'd like to point out that I'm the only one in this conversation who isn't actively trying to set Yuuri up with someone, so I win by default.”

“Liar,” Phichit countered. “You're just as invested as the rest of us.”

“Wait,” Victor interrupted. “Who are we trying to set Yuuri up with?”

“Oh honey no,” Chris replied quickly. “That's not a ‘we’ statement. You're not involved.”

“I've been told I'm an excellent wingman, I could probably help.”

Kenji was suddenly very fascinated in the cash register buttons.

“Look,” Phichit said. “Yuuri likes you. And if you get involved in this whole mess, he probably won't anymore. And on top of that, he’ll probably hate us for dragging you into it.”

“Anyways, love,” Chris said with a smirk. “I got a pastor to hook up with a drag queen once. I think we’ll be fine.”

“That sounds like a story,”

“I’ll tell you when you come visit the high school,” Chris said with a wink. “During lunch, of course, I’d love to keep my job.”

“I’m coming to the high school?” Victor asked.

“Well, we’d certainly love to have you,” Chris said. “The kids would love to meet you, ask you questions. And you could probably teach them a thing or two. Do you have plans Monday?”

“I had a few tentative plans for Monday,” Victor said hesitantly, thinking the offer over. “And can’t exactly demo or anything at the moment. And I don’t have a functional instrument either.”

“That’s absolutely fine,” Chris replied without missing a beat. “You’re an inspiration, darling, just being in the room would be enough.”

“He should do a Wednesday,” Phichit said. “He’d hit your viola sectionals that way.”

Chris nodded. “Wednesday would be ideal… Any tentative plans for Wednesday?”

Victor shook his head.

“Perfect!” Phichit said. “We start at eight, Yuuri can give you directions to the school, I’m sure.”

“It’s not hard,” Chris said. “Just follow the smell of teen angst and raging hormones. You’ll get there.”

“Or just listen for Chris’s freshman orchestra, you could hear them for miles.”

Chris rolled his eyes. “No, love, they’re drowned out by atrocious tuning of your brass section.”

“There’s an easy solution to this,” Kenji interjected. “ _Choir_.”

Phichit gasped.

“ _Heathen_ ,” Chris whispered.

Phichit made a sloppy sign of the cross over his chest.

Kenji threw an egg shaker.

It missed the band director and crashed into a snare drum instead.

“Reason number two to visit the high school,” Chris said with a smirk. “We have much less senseless violence against percussion instruments.”

“And more violence against actual people!” Phichit added.

Victor just laughed. “Well, in _that_ case, I’ll definitely be there.”

“Perfect, love,” Chris replied. “We’ll see you at eight on Wednesday.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So guess what guys I'm actually updating on time!!
> 
> Anyways, hope you all enjoyed chapter two! Thanks so much for reading! I'm looking to have chapter three up by Sunday!
> 
> You can always find me on Tumblr [here](https://locallygrownavocado.tumblr.com/) if you want to scream at me.  
> The wonderful Angie can be found on Tumblr [here](https://lunchtops.tumblr.com/).  
> Our wonderful Victor is on Instagram [here](https://www.instagram.com/carniv.ares/).  
> And the photographer is on Instagram [here](https://www.instagram.com/albuscornix/).


	3. Theme in C

After arguing with Kenji, Yuuri had eventually made a suitable work plan for the weekend. He’d slept late Saturday morning, worked through the afternoon, and went home for an early dinner. Technically, he might’ve brought his sketches with him, but Kenji didn’t have to know that. He’d spent most of Sunday cutting and sanding wood and actually made fairly solid progress.

Which, of course, had brought him to Monday.

Technically speaking, Monday wouldn’t be too terrible of a day. He had to fix a violin for Chris and probably get Kenji the official budget for instrument recruitment night. However, once he got the numbers taken care of, he was free for the rest of the afternoon to work on Victor’s viola.

At least, that had been the plan.

He’d gotten into the store at ten, Chris’s violin was done by eleven. It took half an hour to talk with Kenji, and after a quick lunch, he was back in the work room.

He’d barely made it into Beethoven's third when Victor showed up.

“So,” he said, leaning casually against the door. “If I told you I did something a little crazy, would you promise not to yell at me?”

Yuuri set down his chisel. “I guess that depends. What did you do?”

“Well,” Victor said. “Back in Russia, I have my dog who’s really more like my daughter, her name is Makkachin, she’s literally perfection, and I realized in my hotel room the other night that I miss her quite a lot. So, of course, I called Mila- she’s babysitting Makka, plays cello for Yakov?”

“You think I’m going to yell at you for calling your dog?”

“No?” Victor answered hesitantly. “I didn’t call Makka, not really. I called Mila. And I may or may not have asked her to ship me my dog.”

There was a small moment of silence as Yuuri processed. Either Victor had somehow shipped his dog over from Russia, or Mila had said no and he’d done something ridiculous instead. Either way, he lived in a hotel room, so whatever animal he’d ended up with would probably be living in the store with Yuuri. Which wouldn’t be too bad if it were a dog, but if he’d bought a cat or a guinea pig or some sort of reptile...

“Well,” Yuuri eventually said.  “What did she say?”

Victor sighed. “She called me a sentimental idiot with attachment issues and told me to go buy a hermit crab.”

Yuuri had to fight the urge the laugh. “Victor, if you’re asking me to keep a hermit crab in my store…”

“No no,” the violist corrected. “I didn’t buy a hermit crab, I promise.”

Yuuri looked at him skeptically.

“I did, however, call one of the shelters in town to see if they’d let me walk some of their dogs. Which, on the bright side, they said yes. However, I can’t say no to puppies so I may or may not have taken all seven.”

“ _Victor_.”

“I don’t have enough hands to walk them all, Yuuri, you’ll have to help.”

As much as he would’ve liked to protest for the sake of productivity, he couldn’t, and his carefully constructed plan for Monday afternoon was officially out the window. He left Kenji in charge of the store, banned him from texting Phichit, and went off to greet all seven dogs sitting in his parking lot.

Victor introduced each and every one of them by name.

They started to walk down the street, a small army of dogs leading the way. Yuuri talked about the buildings as they passed them, explaining why Phichit was scared of the florist and how they’d met the family that ran the deli.

“Their daughter is totally crushing on Kenji,” he said. “Every so often she'll bring sandwiches over to the store. It's kind of cute.”

Victor laughed. “Are they good sandwiches at least?”

Yuuri shrugged. “They're decent. The entertainment value is worth it though.”

“She’s nice though?”

Yuuri nodded. “She’s adorable. She called me Mr. Minami for at least a week before she realized I wasn't his dad. Which was funny until I realized how old I must've looked.”

Victor laughed. “You don't look old enough to be Kenji's dad, I promise.”

“Well, I'm glad someone thinks so. Chris still makes fun of me for it.”

“If it makes you feel better, half of the Fletsman Symphony thought Yuri Plisetsky was my son when he first started showing up to rehearsals.”

“I'm sure he loved that.”

“Mila photoshopped us into a Christmas card together one year and sent it out to everyone. I’m sure she still has one on her fridge.”

Yuuri laughed. “You don't look old enough to be a dad either, don't worry.”

“Flatterer,” Victor replied sharply. “I have grey hair.”

“Yeah, but it's like, a pretty grey,” Yuuri said. “Silver, even. And you don't have wrinkles. I'm not even twenty-five and I have worry lines.”

“You do not.”

“The glasses hide them. One of these days I'll wear contacts, you'll see.”

For a second, Victor just stared at him. Then he reached out, slid Yuuri's glasses off his face, and the world shifted into a blur. He could see Victor getting closer to him, his blue eyes carefully inspecting Yuuri’s own.

Victor’s eyelashes were silver.

How had he never noticed them before?

“Nope!” Victor said cheerily, startling Yuuri back into the moment. “No worry lines here! They must not exist.”

Yuuri rolled his eyes as he took his glasses back. “Who’s the flatterer now?”

“Certainly not me,” Victor said with a smile. “I’d never.”

They took a few laps around the neighboring blocks, eventually stopping at one of the many coffee shops in the neighborhood. After leaving all of the dogs to Yuuri, Victor disappeared into the shop to order and emerged a few minutes later with a set of cups, one of which happened to be one of the best lattes Yuuri had ever tasted.

Eventually, they made it back to the store. Victor went to take the dogs back to the shelter and promised to be back tomorrow. Yuuri did his best to ignore Kenji’s smirk as he retreated back into the workroom. He set his coffee on the table, pulled his phone out of his pocket, and started to work through the texts from Phichit.

_Dogs?_

_DOGS????_

_SEVEN OF THEM??????????_

_Good Lord_

_Yuuri Katsuki you son of a bitch_

_If you don’t marry this man I will literally drop kick your ass to Spain_

_NO_

_TO MOSCOW_

_Along with all seen of those dogs_

_Please tell me he adopted them_

Yuuri sighed and typed out his quick reply.

_I certainly hope not, he’s in a hotel room_

_Though I would not be opposed to keeping them in the store_

 

* * *

 

 

* * *

 

Tuesday was fairly uneventful. Victor spent most of his morning arguing with Yakov before eventually giving up and appealing to Lilia. Thankfully, she’d agreed with him.

After the series of phone calls, Victor had gone for a run. He’d watched a Spanish soap opera that he’d found while surfing channels. He’d read over the hotel guidebook for the seventh time. Eventually, he took dinner to Yuuri again and spent a few hours at the store before returning to his hotel room and falling asleep.

Tuesday was fairly uneventful.

Wednesday was not.

He got to the high school at 7:55, just in time for Chris’s first class. It was his upper-level orchestra, mostly juniors and seniors. They listened intently as Chris went through his introduction, and then came the questions.

Some of them were easy.

_Why did you pick the Felstsman Symphony?_

(He’d loved Lilia Baranovskaya too much to say no.)

_What’s your favorite viola joke?_

(He didn’t believe in viola jokes- only violin jokes. And cello jokes, for that matter. Nobody picked on cellos enough.)

_What type of viola do you play on?_

(In the past, a custom model from a friend in France, though he was in the process of getting a new one.)

_Do you listen to classical music all the time?_

(Only when he wanted to annoy the neighbors.)

_Can you play Ariana Grande?_

(That depended on just how much he wanted to annoy said neighbors.)

And then the questions had gotten harder.

_Do you think Yuri Plisetsky will ever get better than you?_

(Probably, given a few years and lots of practice.)

_What would you do if you ever retired from viola?_

(He hadn’t really thought about it, maybe teach lessons. Maybe be a dog groomer. Maybe move to an island somewhere. He’d figure it out.)

_Do you love your dog more than you love your viola?_

(After thinking for a moment, he decided he loved them equally. Like a parent.)

And then, of course, there was the last one.

_Do you think you’re going to play again? You know, after what happened?_

(He hoped so.)

(He really hoped so.)

Eventually, the class was dismissed. Chris slipped over to the band room to ask Phichit a question, and Victor went off in search of a drinking fountain. He found one fairly easily but ran into someone else on his way back to the orchestra room.

“You certainly look new!” the man said cheerily, offering out his hand. “I’m JJ Leroy, I teach choir here.”

As it turned out, JJ the choir director gave incredibly forceful handshakes.

“Victor Nikiforov, I’m here visiting Chris.”

Recognition dawned on JJ’s face.

“Oh!” he exclaimed. “He hadn’t told me you were coming. To be honest, he hadn’t told me he’d gotten a new boyfriend either, but you’re much prettier than the last one so I guess that figures.”

“Wait,” Victor said. “I think we have a misunderstanding…”

JJ just laughed. “It’s good, man, it’s good. The district’s fine with it. We’re all chill. Walk with me, I’ll help you find him.”

Victor started to correct him again but didn’t get the chance.

“The department here is pretty simple,” he explained. “You have Chris, of course, who’s… well… Chris. You know him. Phichit Chulanont teaches band, he’s practically the human reincarnation of a puppy. You’ll like him. Bella teaches women’s choir and takes the freshmen, she’s literally a saint. And I do the rest! Concert choir, mens, show choir… Berklee taught me well, you know? Boston Berklee, that is, not the California type, you know?”

“JJ,” Chris interrupted as they walked back into the choir room.

“Hey, look who we found,” the choir director said with a wink. “Man of the hour.”

Chris just sighed. “You have no idea who that is, do you.”

“Umm, Vince or something? Sorry, man, I’m terrible with names.”

Chris cocked an eyebrow.

“Well, Mr. Berklee-of-Boston,” he said. “I think you should ask our guest here where _he_ graduated from.”

“Oh,” JJ said, turning back to Victor. “My bad. What did you study?”

Victor chuckled a little. “Viola. At the Moscow Conservatory.”

For a second, the choir director was actually at a loss for words.

“He’s from the Feltsman Symphony,” Chris explained. “Yuuri’s making him an instrument.”

“Oh _shit_ ,” JJ said. “Man, I literally just thought you were Chris’s new foreign boyfriend or something, he’s been single for a while, he’s due for a new one…”

“You and I clearly have very different definitions of ‘a while’.”

“Anyways, Victor, my dude,” JJ continued. “You have anything next period? Because you gotta say hi to my choir.”

Victor looked at Chris.

Chris just shrugged.

“I’ve got freshman violin lessons, by all means, go ahead.”

Choir was surprisingly not terrible- the kids asked easier questions anyway. They’d been a bit disappointed to learn he didn’t have perfect pitch, and they’d made him sing pitches to determine his voice part. But by the end of class, he’d officially sang in a high school choir and learned he was a baritone.

He’d texted Yakov to tell him.

Yakov opened the message.

He typed for at least three minutes.

But in the end, he hadn’t responded.

 

* * *

 

Kenji was a good employee, he really was. He’d set up recruitment night perfectly- from the displays to the catering. He’d even gotten Victor to help him with the setup. They’d spent most of the afternoon moving tables and arranging instruments, and by the time Leo and Guang arrived, the store looked perfect. Chris and Phichit arrived a few minutes later, and then the families started to arrive.

Kenji spent most of his time stationed by the brass instruments, along with Leo. They talked about each instrument, showed the fifth graders how to hold them, and let them blow a few notes through their favorites.

Most of the time, they just made fuzzy air sounds. But every so often, one of them would manage to make a solid note.

After about an hour of beginning brass noises, Kenji got his first idea.

Well, technically, he’d had a lot of ideas.

But this one was his first _good_ idea.

“Hey,” he said to one of the fifth graders after she finished blowing into a trombone. “You see Mr. Yuuri over there, right?”

The girl nodded.

“Perfect,” Kenji said. “I need you to do me a favor.”

“For Mr. Yuuri?”

“For Mr. Yuuri.”

He could see Leo’s skeptical glances, but he kept talking anyway.

“I need you to go congratulate him on getting such a pretty new boyfriend, ok?”

The girl’s eyes lit up instantly. “The viola boy?”

Kenji just laughed. “Yeah, the viola boy.”

The fifth-grader practically sprinted towards Yuuri, a huge smile painted across her face.

“Smooth,” Leo said. “But I’ll do you one better.”

It took him no more than three seconds to flag down one of his seventh graders.

“Hey Zeke,” he said. “You see that silver-haired guy by the violas? I need you to go ask him when he’s marrying Mr. Yuuri. We all want to know.”

And just like that, a competition was born.

 

* * *

 

It was just past two in the morning when Yuuri tuned the last string on the viola. The shop was empty, the doors long locked. Mozart was playing softly from his phone, but other than that, the store was silent. There was no Kenji in the next room over, no Victor watching from the doorway. But there was Yuuri, and there was a viola. And somehow, despite the insanity of the project, he’d done it.

He’d never thought he’d actually do it.

It had taken another three weeks, sure. And he’d used his fair share of all-nighters. He’d gone through at least two boxes of band-aids and far too many cups of coffee.

But he’d done it.

It was polished, tuned, and _finished_.

Silent tears of relief rolled down Yuuri’s face as he set the instrument into its case. He took a quick picture, clicked the latches shut, and turned the music off of his phone. For a second he just stood there in the silence, letting himself breathe.

It was finished.

It was actually finished.

Yuuri found his keys and finally let himself go home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And we're back! Sorry for the posting delay, I'm traveling for spring break and things are a tad crazy. But hey! Chapter three has arrived! Thanks so much for reading! Fourth chapter should be up Sunday or Monday, depending on when travel happens! Thanks again guys!
> 
> You can always find me on Tumblr [here](https://locallygrownavocado.tumblr.com/) if you want to scream at me.  
> The wonderful Angie can be found on Tumblr [here](https://lunchtops.tumblr.com/).  
> Our wonderful Victor is on Instagram [here](https://www.instagram.com/carniv.ares/).  
> And the photographer is on Instagram [here](https://www.instagram.com/albuscornix/).

**Author's Note:**

> Hi all and welcome to my fluff bang project! It's been a bit of a wild ride, but we made it! Thanks so much for reading! The next chapter should be up on Wednesday night. :)
> 
> You can find me on Tumblr [here](https://locallygrownavocado.tumblr.com/).  
> Angie, who organized the cosplay and will later be popping up as Yuuri, can be found on Tumblr [here](https://lunchtops.tumblr.com/).  
> Our wonderful Victor is on Instagram [here](https://www.instagram.com/carniv.ares/).  
> And the photographer is on Instagram [here](https://www.instagram.com/albuscornix/).


End file.
